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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207767">Lullaby for the Weeper</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_prefer_the_term_antihero/pseuds/I_prefer_the_term_antihero'>I_prefer_the_term_antihero</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oh I know how the secrets beckon so sweetly [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bloodborne (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Depending on what you choose), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Ending, Gen, Gender-Neutral Hunter (Bloodborne), Mother-Child Relationship, Multiple Endings, Parent-Child Relationship, Tragedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:22:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_prefer_the_term_antihero/pseuds/I_prefer_the_term_antihero</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A mother’s song and a child's tears are always entwined…but what if it was the other way around? || Exploring the relationship between Arianna, the hunter, and her child, and the different ways her story could have ended.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arianna (Bloodborne) &amp; Her Child, Arianna (Bloodborne) &amp; The Hunter, The Hunter &amp; Arianna's Child</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oh I know how the secrets beckon so sweetly [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lullaby for the Weeper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Arianna's story generally is a sad one, and the way it ends depends entirely on the character of the hunter/your own choices, so I didn’t feel this fic fit the tone of the game with just one happy ending. Thus, despite never having used this format before, <b>this fic is a choose your own adventure fic.</b><br/>One of them is indeed the “true” ending of the fic in my mind, and because of this I encourage you to read the different endings! </p><p>Also, fyi, I didn't like the way the scrollbars looked, so the big empty space on certain pages is meant to be there...Let me know if you'd prefer scrollbars to that XD</p><p>Comments are beyond appreciated!! They're what keep me writing!!</p><p>P.S. If you'd be interested in reading more character studies like this, let me know which Bloodborne characters you'd be interested in reading about!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="storycontainer">
<p></p><div class="page"><p><a id="pageone" name="pageone"></a>
</p><p>Mother was crying. The child didn’t like to see mother crying. It wanted her to stop. It wanted to comfort her.</p><p>	She spoke of nightmares, of this being one. It didn’t quite know what that meant—that is to say what “nightmares” were, and what “this” was. All it knew was that she said the words with hurt in her breath. </p><p>The child didn’t know what was so bad, itself. Sure this world was rather dark and damp, but it was cozy, in a way; they had each other, at least. And that was all the warmth the child needed.</p><p>	It wanted to tell Mother that. </p><p>	But what could it do, all small, weak, and slimy? Not much. It had no words to bundle up and ship off out its lips. (If it even had lips…that was yet to be determined.)</p><p>	So it sang for her. Well, not a song, really. Just a note or two. More like chirping. It wasn’t much, but it was all its tiny form could muster, what with being just born and all. </p><p>	The whistling notes echoed throughout the world, louder than her tears, and it made the place just a little warmer.</p><p>	…But Mother didn’t stop crying. </p><p>	Was the lullaby not enough for her? What did she need? What did she want it to do for her? What could it do?</p><p>	The child didn’t stop singing either, nor did it plan to. It didn’t take too much breath, and it was all it could do, so it’d sing until Mother stopped crying.</p><p>	She never told it to stop, in fact she barely said a thing, even when the minutes bled, and time was long enough the child didn’t know the name for how long it had been. She cried, and the child sang, and that was all life was comprised of in this damp, dark world. </p><p>	Until the hunter came. </p><p>	The child didn’t know there were other beings in the world. But one such being came down the ladder, their footsteps—two feet, like Mother—heavy against metal, against stone, and they smelled like life—(for blood is life, especially for a newborn thing drenched in it, is it not?).</p><p>	The hunter came, dressed in black and red. Their steps harsher than Mother’s soft shoes, their garments with harsher lines than the silky trail of Mother’s dress. Though they were of the same kind, were they not?</p><p>	They had a lantern with them, and for the first time the child <i>saw</i>. Really saw. Mother. Her red dress, her blond hair, her soft pale skin. She looked…quite different from the child, it realized. It wondered if it’d grow up to be like her in time. It hoped so.</p><p>	The hunter brought something with them, held it in their hand now. Something large, that cast reflections of the low light, something that dripped with those fragrant drops of life. </p><p>	The hunter didn’t say a word, but Mother told them about the nightmares, and how this couldn’t be—<i>What</i> couldn’t be?—and she cried…until she laughed. </p><p>	What was that like? To be so sad you’re happy? Or so sad your sanity slips away? The child knew not of sadness, only of dim hope.</p><p><a href="#pagetwo">The hunter, without a question, with barely a thought, or a second glance— </a><br/>
<a href="#pagethree">When Mother didn’t elaborate, the hunter left, as if</a><br/>
<a href="#pagesix">The hunter looked at the child, and recognition dawned on their face, along with horror.</a></p></div><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="page"><p><a id="pagetwo" name="pagetwo"></a></p><p>	The hunter, without a question, with barely a thought, or a second glance, raised that big shiny thing.

</p><p>And the child, seeing its reflection in the shine—sang no more. </p><p>Its mother didn’t cry anymore either.</p><p><a href="#pageone">Back to page one</a></p></div><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="page"><p>
      <a id="pagethree" name="pagethree"></a>
    </p><p>	When Mother didn’t elaborate, the hunter left, as if this were merely a place to pass through—(was there more world out there?) </p><p>	On the first day Mother stayed, and she continued crying.</p><p> And when she didn’t cry, </p><p><a href="#pagefour">she sat with her eyes glazed and listless, </a><br/>
<a href="#pagefive">she sat with her eyes closed. 
</a></p><p>
<a href="#pageone">Back to page one</a></p></div><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="page"><p><a id="pagefour" name="pagefour"></a> </p><p>When Mother didn’t elaborate, the hunter left, as if this were merely a place to pass through—(was there more world out there?) </p><p>	On the first day Mother stayed, and she continued crying, and when she didn’t cry, she sat with her eyes glazed and listless, like she was either seeing nothing, or more than she ever wanted to even know.</p><p>On the second day, her eyes were so blank it looked like something had dove in there and hollowed her out. She was so still. She slept, and she didn’t eat or drink, or leave. And she never, <i>never</i> looked at the child. </p><p>The child squirmed over to Mother and nudged her shoes, asking her, begging her, with only chirps, to wake up, to do something, <i>anything</i>, and it never, <i>never</i> stopped singing. </p><p>	On the fourth day she didn’t cry anymore…but the child didn’t sing either. </p><p><a href="#pagethree">Back to page three</a><br/>
<a href="#pageone">Back to page one</a>
  </p></div><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="page"><p>
    <a id="pagefive" name="pagefive"></a>
  </p><p>When Mother didn’t elaborate, the hunter left, as if this were merely a place to pass through—(was there more world out there?) </p><p>On the first day Mother stayed, and she continued crying, and when she didn’t cry, she sat with her eyes closed. Whenever she raised her head and saw the child, her eyes blazed.</p><p>	On the second day the child wriggled over to nudge her shoes, to encourage her to do something.</p><p>The fire was hot as a poker; she kicked it across the room, where it landed painfully upon the wall. </p><p>When the blackness that had enveloped it faded back into reality, Mother was gone. </p><p>	It hurt to sing now. </p><p>But the child sang alone to an empty room, and began to understand what sadness was, what it felt like to cry—the song, once a lullaby, now a half-cracked aria to the dream of a Mother’s love, now gone, long gone, or which was never really there in the first place—and, despite never having had them, what Mother meant when she said this was a nightmare. </p><p>And just before the darkness crawled inside it and choked out the song, the child hoped feebly, wherever she was, Mother wasn’t crying anymore. </p><p><a href="#pagethree">Back to page three</a><br/>
<a href="#pageone">Back to page one</a></p></div><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="page"><p>
    <a id="pagesix" name="pagesix"></a>
  </p><p>	The hunter looked at the child, and at first their eyes widened, and they looked between it and Mother, recognition dawning on their face, along with horror. </p><p>	Despite the horror, those wretched tears didn’t fill their eyes the way they had Mother’s. Instead their expression melted, and they knelt before the child, raising their hand to its face, as if to let it sniff.</p><p>	“That’s a lovely song.” Their voice was gentler than the child thought it would be.</p><p>	Mother jerked her head up “What?” she barked.</p><p>	“The song. It sounds like it’s singing for you.”</p><p>	Mother looked at the child. She had looked at the child before, but, then, horror had consumed her features until she could do nothing but bury her head six feet in her hands. Now, while it still tugged at her lip, something else landed in her eyes.</p><p>	“Does it have a name?” The hunter asked. </p><p>	“A name?” Mother snorted as if the thought of it having a name was absurd. </p><p>	The hunter reached a hand—strong, and solid, and warm—towards the child, put it beneath it, and lifted it up. </p><p>	The child didn’t know there were other ways to see the world. From this angle the child could see the details in the hunters face, and, looking the other way, the hair on Mother’s head. It wanted to say, <i>Look, Mother, I’m flying!</i> But, you’ll forgive it for not being able to talk just yet, yes? Instead it gave a happy chirp.</p><p>	The hunter freed one of their fingers enough to pull down their mask, to reveal their face, and the child wasn’t quite sure, but it thought “happy” might be the right word for the way their mouth curved up.</p><p> “You’re kinda cute, aren’t you? You know…in an ugly way.”</p><p>	Shadow played with Mothers features at the words, opposing emotions vying for power over her expression. </p><p>	The hunter lowered the child as if offering it to Mother, but she turned away sharply. </p><p>	The hunter held it back up, continuing to talk to it.</p><p>	“You know I’ve been hearing another child for a while. He cries a lot. It’s getting kind of annoying to be honest. Not like you, you’re cheerful, aren’t you?”</p><p>	The child chirped in agreement. </p><p>	“How can you do that?” Mother’s voice was hoarse.</p><p>	“Do what?”</p><p>	“Treat it like it has a…a <i>soul</i>. Don’t you kill those things?” The word ‘kill’ sounded like it tasted bitter.</p><p>Shadow played on the hunters face too, but their features were softer, enough that the darkness slid right off. </p><p>“‘Those things?’ It’s your child, isn’t it? It’s not a <i>thing</i>.” They paused. “And <i>you</i>’re nice. I have a tough time believing something that came from you is <i>all</i> bad.” </p><p>“It’s not <i>all</i> mine,” she mimicked the hunter’s phrasing.</p><p>The hunter sat on a box beside Mother. “Yeeahh I wasn’t gonna ask…But something tells me the father isn’t from this world.”</p><p>“Don’t ask <i>me</i>.” She spat. </p><p>The hunter raised an eyebrow, then understanding set in their eyes. “The blood moon.” They said softly. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The blood moon. Believe it or not you’re not the first woman I’ve seen who was…chosen.” </p><p>“Chosen? For what?” </p><p>They looked off to the left. “The great ones don’t always ask for permission when they bestow their ‘gifts.’”</p><p>“So I was right!” The words were coarse in the back of her throat. “It is a monster! A-A demon spawn!” She pointed her finger at it, and it was shaking. “It should be killed!” She turned from the child to the hunter, her words just as harsh; “Isn’t this your job?! Like I said, don’t you kill <i>those things</i>?! Haven’t you killed thousands of them just outside the door!” Her voice sounded more hysterical by the second.</p><p> “Not all of them,” they replied softly. “Just the ones that cause harm, or create nightmares.”</p><p>	“What of this <i>other</i> child?” she spat. “The one whose cries you’ve been hearing. Are you going to kill him too?”</p><p>	The shadow won over the hunter’s face. “…I said I had to kill the ones that create nightmares.”</p><p>	“Won’t you end mine?” </p><p>	The hunter’s eyes crinkled. </p><p>“Are you sure this is a nightmare, and not just a scary reality?”</p><p>	“Does it matter?”</p><p>	The hunter stood, and offered the child to her a second time. She recoiled just as violently. </p><p>“I promise it won’t bite.”</p><p>“How can you promise that?”</p><p>“Because if it did you’d probably be dead.” They said simply. “Or, even if it didn’t try to hurt you, when it saw me it would have given me good reason to kill use this”—there was a clinking and the metal thing lengthened—“the moment I walked in.”</p><p>He made the metal thing shorter once more, and offered the child again. Disdain tugged at her lip like a hook.</p><p>The hunter wouldn’t accept a refusal, and placed it in her arms, the disdain completely twisting her face. </p><p>The child looked up into Mother’s face and chirped, it felt warmer than ever sitting in her arms.</p><p> “Take it from someone who fights monsters for a living,” The hunter wiped a stray streak of blood off their cheek. “Sometimes the scariest things in reality are also the most thrilling. Or at least lead to the most interesting experiences.”</p><p>Mother scoffed, holding her face as far as she could from the child.</p><p>“Tell you what.” The hunter tipped her chin up to them. “If next time I come back here you still think this is a nightmare, I can…” they removed the finger from her chin and rubbed the back of their neck, “end it for you. But if you give it a chance, maybe you’ll find sometimes nightmares can turn back into good dreams.”</p><p>	“You know <i>so</i> much, Foreigner,” she said wryly. </p><p>	“Not really.” There was that ‘happy’ again. “I’ve just been having lots of nightmares lately. One tends to find the silver lining.”</p><p>	“No I think that’s just you.”</p><p>	They shrugged. “Maybe I am still just a foreigner then—yet to learn your Yharnam ways.”</p><p>	She rolled her eyes.</p><p>	“Well,” they turned to leave, “I’m off to kill more nightmares, and hopefully find more silver linings.” They winked, not at Mother, but the child.</p><p>	When the hunter left, Mother looked like she wanted to put the child down, but the child protested, giving a pained chirp, and her expression altered, the disdain lessening. She—reluctance in every feature—kept holding it.</p><p>It was a few days later when, the child thought she finally heard its song—really <i>heard</i> its song—and for the first time, she smiled.</p><p>
    <a href="#pageone">Back to page one</a>
  </p></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me *writing this*: “people are gonna flip when they read this.”<br/>Me: *leaves it behind for many months*<br/>Me: *rediscovers it in my computer*<br/>Me: OH MY GOSH MY HEART *proceeds to flip*</p><p>The Game Grumps playthrough of this game was my first experience with the game, and I didn’t realize until I played it myself that they had the game sound turned down a lot. So when I came to Arianna in my own playthrough I was like<br/>“What’s that chirping? It’s actually quite lovely and calming...”<br/>“…”<br/>“WAIT ITS HER CHILD ITS TRYING TO COMFORT HER THAT’S SO SAD”<br/>Sooo uhh, this fic was pretty much born from that. </p><p>Arianna’s story is one I find very interesting, and I kinda wish there were actual endings to it, besides just deciding to kill the child or not.<br/>After I watched Arin kill her child, I looked up what happens if you don’t, and the wiki or whatever I was looking at said “she will continue to live with her child.” And I kinda thought that meant she made peace with the child’s existence and actually started to take care of it. But it turns out “continue to live with” just means “nothing changes.” Her dialogue stays the same. …Almost as if you’re <i>supposed</i> to kill the child.<br/>And both those endings are sad to me. Either you end her nightmare (aka kill the child) and she dies too, or they both live, but she’s in agony about it. It’s especially sad to me, because, from the way it seems to me, her child isn’t evil. I don’t know if the fact that it’s Oedon’s child would ultimately lead to it becoming evil, or creating a nightmare, by nature, and if that means it’s better to kill it. But from what we see, it doesn’t seem evil, it doesn’t try to hurt you or Arianna or anything, like the other little celestial creatures it looks like at the top of the cathedral. And if it was raised by a nice human woman, I think it could potentially grow to be good. I still feel super bad for poor Arianna, subjected to this without any choice. But I don’t think the child was evil or a demon or anything.<br/>We’ve seen the great ones aren’t necessarily evil, i mean, the hunter becomes a good one at the end.<br/>So I kinda wished if you let it live, when you came back, the dialogue changed, and there were actual endings...so I basically decided to create them!</p><p>I'm not sure how to post this fic to all the other sites (fanfiction.net, tumblr, wattpad...) because they don't allow for this formatting. What would you guys suggest?</p><p>I also wasn't sure about my different-page-option-sentences XD Let me know if you have any better ideas for them!</p><p>I realized at the very end, since it was a choose your own adventure, I probably could have also used that format to let you pick the hunter's gender, (or choose to keep them gender neutral), but that's a lot of work, so I just left them gender neutral for now XD</p><p>I hope you enjoyed this!! Please let me know in the comments if you did!! I assure you your kind words make my week!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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